


In the Eye

by Amaradex



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2x11 spoilers, Aftermath of battle, Gen, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaradex/pseuds/Amaradex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels exactly like what he imagines drowning is like, and he knows that when his resolve finally breaks, when he finally gives in, there will be the one brief, perfect moment of peace before the true hell descends.  He used to look forward to that moment, to the clarity and focus and odd feeling of everything being alright.</p>
<p>My speculations as to 2x12 and what will happen during/after it.  Contains spoilers for 2x11 "Battlefield" and the teaser shown after that episode for 2x12 "Master Plan".</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Eye

When the last of Gerard's hunters are either unconscious, dead, or have run off and when they've verified that they're all still alive - and will still _be_ alive in a few hours, - Stiles finds a small patch of blood-free ground and sinks down onto it, cradling his head in his hands. Most of the night is a blur in his memory, with vivid snippets of terror and violence rising from the mire of it.

He knows that later, he'll wish that it had stayed as undefined as it currently is. Tremors roll through him like waves, each one dragging him further into the panic attack he can feel coming. He wasn't lying to Miss Morrell, or exaggerating. It feels exactly like what he imagines drowning is like, and he knows that when his resolve finally breaks, when he finally gives in, there will be the one brief, perfect moment of peace before the true hell descends. He used to look forward to that moment, to the clarity and focus and odd feeling of everything being alright.

He can't afford to lose control now, though, not when the fallout from this night is yet to come. His dad is probably still frantically searching for him, on the verge of a heart attack thinking that he's lost his son. That's enough to send him crawling over to Gerard's body, digging through the corpse's pockets like he's possessed. He can't stomach the thought of his dad dying the same way as that asshole.

"What are you doing?" Allison rasps, her voice torn. She starts to jump to her feet, but her father grabs her arm and pulls her back down, tucking her into his chest when she starts heaving with sobs again. Stiles doesn't doubt that the night had been particularly hard on her, finding out that her grandfather had essentially planned for her mother's death-by-werewolf just to get at her. She may never get past it, he thinks, knowing that she trusted in that kind of callous disregard, that she had been starting to show it herself. At a different time, Stiles might have cared, but for now all he can think of is reassuring his father that he is alive and more-or-less in one piece.

"My phone," he says, barely noticing the edge of panic in his voice. "I need my phone - I need to call my dad. He needs to know that I'm OK..." He has to stop, to force himself to breathe slowly. In and out on a count of seven, just like he'd practised years ago. He can't hyperventilate himself into an attack.

"Use mine," Lydia says from where she's partially wrapped around a shell-shocked Jackson. She slips it out of her pocket and holds it out, her hands surprisingly steady. Stiles trips over his own feet three times in his mad scramble over to her, but he doesn't notice the new bruises and scrapes on top of the older ones. He dials his dad's number with shaking fingers, cursing when the phone blinks at him, warning him that it only has 12% power.

"Hello?"

The sound of his dad's voice breaks Stiles' heart and for a moment he just sits there, his mouth hanging open. He remembers that voice, and it brings back far too many painful memories.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" The faint hint of anger lacing through his dad's voice brings Stiles back to the present reality and he jumps.

"Dad..." he manages to croak out. There's a faint gasp and then his dad speaks again, broken but somehow still strong.

"Stiles?"

"Dad... dad. I'm OK. We're all OK. Well, mostly OK." He glances around the room, taking in the slowly healing wounds of the five werewolves. "Some bruises, cuts. You know, the usual things you get when you're kidnapped or otherwise attacked by a band of psychos." The attempt at a joke is flat and humourless, but it's apparently enough to reassure his dad that it's really him.

"Stiles, where are you?" The firmness tells him that his dad's back to being the Sheriff. "Tell me where you are so we can come get you all."

"I don't know exactly where - some abandoned warehouse with a freaking train in it." Another lie and he hates it, but he knows he can't deal with explaining how he knows where this place is. Fucking hunters, being stupidly predictable after the fact.

The phone beeps in his ear and he doesn't even have to pull it away to know what it's saying. "Dad, the phone's dying."

"OK, Stiles, I need all of you to stay put. We know where you are, and we'll be there in fifteen minutes. Can you do that?" Stiles doesn't snort at that, doesn't respond that after all the things he's dealt with tonight, sitting in a room with twelve dead bodies, five werewolves, a kanima and two hunters who have just been betrayed by their own leader is nothing.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. No problem." His voice sounds hollow to his own ears and he hopes it isn't obvious to his dad. The phone beeps once more and then dies. Stiles is tempted to pitch it against one of the walls, but he just hands it back to Lydia instead. He doesn't even want to think about how fucking predictable it is that the thing ran out of batteries. It's like a movie, only it's actually happening to him and it sucks. He wanted to stay on the phone with his dad until the entire department got here, to keep talking to keep the fear and anger and revulsion and terror and _oh god_ at bay.

Instead, he turns away from the horrible sight of Jackson's blank eyes to the rictus of Peter Hale's psycho grin perched atop the ruin of his neck. He doesn't have to look down to know that the lower half of Peter's body has been completely severed. Only fucking useful thing Gerard did.

Just the sight of Peter is enough to pull forward the flash of memory, of Peter kneeling over top of Stiles, grinning that same grin as he held his claws up and back, prepared to tear out his throat. Stiles stumbles back a few steps, unable to tear his eyes away from the body, from the eyes he's seeing in his head, still poised to kill him, filled with a manic glee. Peter had remembered him, had known him as the one who threw the first bottle of liquid fire.

"Stiles, look at me." He's being shaken, and the blue eyes are replaced by green. Derek stays between Stiles and Peter's body, slowly backing him up until he can slump against the far wall.

That's another of the vivid moments in Stiles' mind - Derek saving him. He hadn't realized that it had been Derek at the time, of course, just seen a dark blur tackle Peter away from him. It had been the flash of red eyes and the absence of the Alpha in the fight against the kanima that had told Stiles what exactly had happened. Derek had narrowly missed being caught in the swing of the sword that cut Peter in two, but before Gerard could try again, he'd begun clutching at his chest and trying to find his pill case. Derek had bounded back over to the fight just in time to keep Jackson from ripping out Boyd's guts, so Stiles had been the one to see that Gerard was dying, the one who'd called out to the wolves, telling them to fall back.

The death of its master had left the kanima lost, and without the provocation of the wolves attacking it, Lydia had been able to approach it, calling Jackson's name until he shook himself through the transformation and collapsed. The last few hunters had been easy to clear up, most running once they realized that Gerard was dead and neither Allison nor Chris were inclined to stop the werewolves from defending themselves. The few that had stood their ground had been knocked out efficiently by Scott and Isaac.

"You with me here?" Derek's shaking Stiles' shoulder gently again, the tone of his voice indicating that he's been talking while Stiles has been lost in his own thoughts. Stiles nods, feeling like his head is only loosely attached, like it could fly off if he moves it too much. Everything is numb within him, felt through layers of fine-woven silk. It's better than the panic, at least, less oppressive and terrifying. He's willing to take pretty much any reaction that keeps him capable of surviving the next few hours without worrying his dad any more.

"So what's with this place anyway?" Stiles asks after Derek's silent for a few moments too long. He's raw and he sounds it, but talking has always been soothing for him, and now that he can breathe, he's going to do his best to stay that way. "I mean, it's kind of cool in that whole "I'll always be ten at heart and love trains" sort of way, but it's not much of a step up from your last hideout." He freezes when Derek moves, worried that he's touched a nerve, but Derek just settles into the corner next to him and pulls him into the curve of his arm. After a few moments of staring at Scott's hand on Allison's shoulder, Stiles twitches.

"I mean, what are you going to do for the next version of "Hale's House for New Werewolves"? You can't come back here for a while, not now that the police and the runaway hunters know about it. May I suggest the abandoned restaurant out by the school? At least then you'd have a kitchen..."

The talking helps and Derek's not telling him to shut up, so Stiles keeps going, his eyes still focused on Scott, watching as his friend slowly works his way into Allison and Chris' hug until the three of them are holding each other up. He feels Derek relax behind him, and finds himself talking about the lacrosse game. The time trickles slowly away and it feels like he's been talking for hours by the time the Sheriff's Department cavalry shows up, even though it probably isn't even ten minutes. Stiles' dad doesn't show any surprise at finding his son being held by Derek Hale, former murder suspect and general shady character - who is, Stiles realizes, shirtless and covered in blood. In fact, the only thing the once-again-Sheriff shows is relief as he pulls Stiles up off the ground and into a hug.

Stiles only has the time to turn and mouth "thank you" to Derek before his dad is rushing him out to the ambulances to get checked over. The peaceful expression on Derek's face becomes his capstone memory for the evening, somehow managing to mirror the positivity of the game, despite what has happened in between.  Stiles doubts he'll ever fully forget it all, but now he can hope that he too can come to peace with it.


End file.
